


Kingdom Key: Replica

by dwyndling



Series: chi [5]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Keyblade Wielders (Kingdom Hearts), Keyblade-centric, Keyblades (Kingdom Hearts), Replica Kingom Key (Keyblade), Replicas (Kingdom Hearts)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:22:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22146382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwyndling/pseuds/dwyndling
Summary: Mirrors, carbon. Deception, truth.
Series: chi [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583548
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Kingdom Key: Replica

It is born in a lab. 

There is no heart in the carefully engineered body that carries the consciousness around. There is the physical organ, to be sure, but it would be a grave misinterpretation of the facts to say that the little replica has a soul. 

_What would be the point? It does not need a face to complete its task. It barely needs a name._

Life is a strange and complex tapestry woven of many many things, of which it understands little. It understands basic direction and human speech, but beyond that…

Existence is an overwhelming blend of sight, smell, sound, and color. The dark laboratory shields it from the brunt of this new sensory overload, but soon enough, the dark laboratory is left behind for a castle made of white walls and grey tiles. And, understandably enough, the darkened laboratory soon fades away into the deepest recesses of it’s memory, such a recollection unnecessary in the newly discovered light.

Roxas is a strange and confusing blend of everything it does not understand yet. He is kind, even when the replica does not yet know what kindness is. All it knows for certain, is that Roxas is _nice,_ and doesn’t prod it with needles or give it the weird pinching sensation that occurs when one of it’s limbs is removed and modified again.

It is...very nice, to have someone who does not see it as a doll...and seems to truly see the growing spark of awareness underneath the hood. 

And somewhere, far beyond the reach of it’s awareness to ascertain exactly when, _it_ becomes _she._

That same process is accompanied by the sudden glow within her ribcage, something that grows and manifests quietly until suddenly her hand reaches out to catch the hilt of Roxas’s weapon in the heat of a scuffle...and that warm light becomes something solid, and entirely indescribable. 

It is not like a hug, or if it was, Xion would hardly know. It is not like a summer’s morning either, since she doesn’t know what that’s like either. 

It is the late afternoons that bleed into early evening as they watch the sunset. _It is the gentle salty breeze, and her two best friends laughing by her side._ It is the sticky, salty sweet of ice cream. _It is the feeling of the ocean water at her ankles, and another girl’s bright voice, teasing._ It is the little fluttery feeling underneath her clavicles when Roxas laughs at one of her jokes or when Axel pats her approvingly on the shoulder.

_It is…whatever it is, whichever it is, it is something worth fighting for._

She has a key of her own now, completely identical to Roxas’s. It registers in her chest as a touch no greater than that of a butterfly’s wing, and it murmurs the strongest the closer she is to Roxas.

Fighting with it carries that same oddly familiar feeling, as if her feet know what to do before her mind does. She learns to appreciate the thrill of it, the exhilaration of knowing that she has what it takes to defeat the enemy standing before her.

This new development seems to be not only expected, but required by the tall and stern men who run the Organization. It seems almost as though this is the whole reason that she exists now at all. 

Xion isn’t a genius by any stretch of the imagination, but she’s not dumb. It’s not that difficult to interpret the looks that the older members of the Organization give her, or exactly how much of her life rests on being able to complete the tasks given to her. 

Her life, as she knows it, rides on this key now, doesn’t it.

The key that shines and sparkles in her hands...it’s almost…

...no...it couldn’t be. 

She sees it in her dreams sometimes, but never quite remembers enough to justify talking about. Roxas might understand, but then again, he just give her a funny look and ask if she ate anything weird lately.

_In her dreams, there is a single piece of glass, grey colored, and about three feet by three feet wide. She stands on it, staring straight ahead into the inky void on all sides._

Nobody. Human. To be without a heart. None of those things really make sense to her, but all she can do is carry on, one foot in front of the other.

_You are not human, because you do not have a heart. You are no one, and you do not exist._

Those, and other words echo around her head as she fulfills her daily tasks. It’s hard not to think about them, when you hear such things so often. 

But this key...the keyblade...it’s a special weapon, right? So special, that she and Roxas are the only ones in the Organization who can use it. Even if they’re only no one...even if they don’t exist. 

It’s hard to find any rationale in the situation when no one else seems to require any. So she puts it out of her mind, and sits on the edge of the clocktower with her two best friends. 

_In sleep, her dreams continue. What was once a single grey square of glass has become tinted red, and formed itself into a slightly different shape. The void continues, as it ever does._

She talks to Roxas about the keyblade sometimes, when it’s just them. It is a balm to know her experience is not singular, and that Roxas also feels the siren call of deja vu that surrounds the strange weapon. Neither can agree on what exactly it is, and they leave the topic no less confused, but a little more comforted.

The comfort does not last long.

_There’s a boy with long silver hair and a permanent sadness. There’s a girl, with blonde hair and a face I recognize from the mirror._

_Not supposed to exist...Sora...my memories...your memories…_

_So yours are more important in the grand scheme of things, huh. I don’t feel upset. Not anymore._

_It’s not your fault, Sora. It’s not mine either. But for now…_

_For now I’m going back to where I came from. What a joy it was, to exist at all! I’m going to miss it. I’m going to miss Roxas, and Axel. I’m going to miss the taste of ice cream, and the warm feeling of the sun on my face._

_This is the way it has to be. And if it helps Roxas...there’s no question._

_I just hope...I just hope I can see Roxas again. And Axel. And maybe even you, Sora._

_Is this keyblade yours? If so, I’m sorry for borrowing it without asking. You can have it back now. After...one last thing._

The dark colored keyblade slices into the ground next to the boy with silver hair, and uses the last of it’s wielder’s will to whisper out a final plea to him.

_Make sure Rox_s is alr_ght. D_n’t let him d_ anyth_ng st_pid._

_Pl__s_ r_m_mb_r._

There was never a girl with short black hair and eyes like the ocean on a cloudy day. There was never a third figure in black, on the edge of the clocktower like a row of oversized pigeons.

At least, not to anyone’s recollection.

Someone decides to make a replica. They make it according to a schematic that was already prepared, to save precious work hours. They send it into battle, and the threads of fate begin to tie themselves back into place from where they were discarded. 

It is unclear how, but the replica is able to summon and wield a keyblade. Due to the situation, it doesn’t seem to matter much. You would think it would’ve mattered more, due to the fact that said keyblade was, for all intents and appearances, a carbon copy of the keyblade wielded by the Hero of Light, but again, it really didn’t seem to matter much to anyone at the time.

_She crosses blades with a girl whose face is identical to hers. If the replica understood how odd that was, it might’ve set her off balance. But so many people around her already have the same face, so it can’t be that strange, right?_

The keyblade clashes against its mirror image. Xemnas’s foot kicks out, and in that simple motion, unknowingly sends the skeleton of a heart sent careening backwards into the soul that was missing.

Chains of memory snap back into place with all the force of a lightning strike.

The replica lays crumpled on the ground, as everything rearranges itself inside her chest, and what was recently a mostly empty cavity becomes something bursting with light, a warmth and a strength that carries with it a face and a name.

_Xion._

“Xion!!”

Existence, something pure and unique, envelopes her again. 

She raises her chin in defiance, and the key sparkles into reality in her hand once again. It carries with it an extra gleam, and with a thrill, she realises it _recognizes_ her. She’s reunited with the two people she cares for most in the world, and tears like silvery gemstones trickle down her face. 

Sunset approaches. 

Kairi...someone who looks and feels just like her, and yet isn’t alike at all. As Sora’s posture crumples, and his heart visibly shatters, she can’t not approach him. It would be cruel not to tell him...that the same spark that flickered and ignited her into existence won’t be put out so easily.

The sun sets, and a pallid chill sweeps over them. The battle continues into the night, into the sky, until at long last, the old master has been defeated. 

The key stays stalwart in her hands, even if her grip becomes shaky. She is alive. She is whole again. She is remembered. No one will change that now. 

Dawn comes sweetly, but sunset now carries with it a note of bitterness. Roxas and Axel are beside her again, and even if it seems oddly fated that while they exist, Sora cannot, that is a fate that can be overcome. 

Life flows through Xion’s veins, and even if she wasn’t human to begin with, simply modeled in the image of one, her heart beats quietly on. The key sleeps within, a branding mark of light upon an all too real heart.

She has so much to learn...so much left to grow. Her keyblade will grow and change with her, of that much she is sure. 

_No. i. Roxas Replica._

_Xion. No. XIV._

Xion.

  
  



End file.
